Devil May Fry
by Wictory
Summary: Lucifer gets hurt and Eden patches him up, because there needed to be some Lucifer WingKink on this site. Stand alone or can be read after 'Bounty of Eden'.


Eden didn't know why she woke; the man standing in her room made no noise and hadn't entered through either window or door. It had been weeks since the incredibly surreal visit from the devil himself and she had wondered if he'd ever show up again.

"It's no longer safe for him here."

She had been dreading an announcement like this, it was inevitable she supposed but it still didn't make it hurt any less.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.

"My brothers have become aware of... the child. His existence is a threat to them."

A hundred thoughts flicked through her mind; surely there was a way to protect him, anything to keep him here, anything to keep her son. Lucifer was standing motionless at the foot of her bed, devoid of any movement at all actually and Eden realised something was wrong. Fascination rose in her, surely the devil wasn't hurt? It wasn't like she could ask him, she didn't think. In the dimly lit room she studied his body for any sign of trauma and found none. She frowned, feeling her lips purse in annoyance. All her life she had fought to be treated as an equal in varying relationships, how was it she ended up being tied to someone so immensely more powerful than herself, someone she dared not even question? There had been her outburst a few weeks ago, common sense told her it was a fluke that let her survive the ordeal but now her usefulness was quickly coming to an end.

"it is a mere graze," his voice surprised her yet again. Perhaps he was more shaken than he was letting on; it was not like the devil to offer so many answers.

"I don't see anything."

"It is in a more sensitive place..." Eden's eyes immediately dropped towards his jeans and Lucifer sighed impatiently "my _wings,_ it never ceases to amaze me how one tracked the human mind is."

"You have- of course you have wings, why wouldn't you have wings...? And I'm guessing the whole me being a mere mortal things means I can't see them?" Lucifer nodded, his fingers trailing over his lips in thought.

"I suppose I could materialise them in a form that you could see..." he trailed off, obviously reluctant to admit to considering the possibility. Eden was becoming increasingly alert as she shook off sleep

"Let's have a look. I worked at the Red Cross, I'm pretty good with patching people-_things_-up."

"They will heal, I hardly need," Eden's droll stair cut him off. With a grimace that said she wasn't going to like what she was about to see Lucifer unleashed his wings. They were terrible. A mass of speckled grey feathers accompanied by the stench of burning flesh filled the room.

"I suppose they are a little, unkempt." He conceded. Fucking understatement of the year, there were feathers sticking out at odd angles and others that had fallen out only to become matted into the rest of the mess. "My brothers would not touch me after I fell," this much was obvious "and I have become a little lax about grooming."

"What do I need to do?" She didn't even know why she had offered. It seemed strangely pervious to leave his wings in that condition and she felt oddly sorry for him; he had no reason to keep his wings as it was obvious he had no one to show them to. For the first time she realised how lonely his existence must be. Lucifer seemed to weigh her offer before turning away from her to expose the backs of his immense wings. The one of the left was burnt badly; feathers had mostly fallen away from the angry wound but some appeared to have melted onto the now exposed flesh which was raw and weeping. Bile rose in Eden's throat as she looked at it, this was far beyond her somewhat limited first aid skills.

"If you could remove the remaining feathers, the wound will close on its own shortly." His voice shook her from her thoughts. He sounded weary and once again Eden realised this must be as surreal to him as it was to her.

"I guess I can do that. Um, I have a kit in the bathroom," she somewhat awkwardly sidled past him, incredibly aware that her nightie left very much to the imagination now she was without the cover of the duvet. She returned with the little red pouch and opted to use gloved hands to pick at the melted mess as the tweezers provided were much to flimsy for such work. She ended up kneeing behind him as he sat on the edge of her bed working away at his wings. Pulling feathers away from the damaged tissue must have hurt beyond belief but he gave no indication of pain, for the most part she tried to brace the skin before tearing the next bloody clump away. Her right hand pressed against his now exposed shoulder blade as she removed the final lump and as she moved back to examine her work she let her fingers trail down his spine. They had sat in silence while Eden worked, now as she fumbled with an antiseptic cloth she realised she might have tried to warn him before hurting him.

"This is going to sting," she said softly, hand still pressed against his back. His feathers ruffled as she pressed the cloth to his skin but he made no sound. Absentmindedly she plucked a few stray feathers from the surrounding section of his wing and when he still made no complaint she set about plucking and smoothing the rest of his wing into place. The feathers were oddly light under her hands, as if they had no real mass of their own, but settled fairly easily into position. Eden bit her lip and she worked quickly over the rest of the wing, building a small pile of lost feathers next to her. As she approached the base of the wing he stopped her.

"There are glands set under the feathers: do not touch them."

"What happens if I do?" Eden inquired.

"You die."

"Oh."

"Here," he reached back with a grunt and spread his feathers to reveal a small dark lump that Eden couldn't help but feel looked remarkably like a pecan. "They produce oil during pleasurable grooming. It keeps the feathers healthy."

"They aren't making any oil now," she pointed out.

"Why would I be?" Eden shifted uncomfortably, she was doing her best to not cause any discomfort but she supposed the wound must still be hurting. "I haven't produced any in more than a thousand years, you should be fairly safe."

"Safe?" she echoed.

"It has, certain properties, which make it desirable during mating." She didn't even know angels could mate; obviously they could reproduce without sex. She settled for staying quite while she finished his remaining wings.

Dawn was approaching by the time Eden finished. As the first rays of sun spilt against her window the angel in front of her vanished as did the pile of spare feathers. Eden was left alone, her hands dry and aching from her task.


End file.
